Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Sciecne Is A Blast!

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
“Class today we will be demonstrating our science projects.” Mr. Daley announced. I chuckled at his speech; I always found it hilarious how his hideous mustache floated up from his breath when he talked. We were all standing in the middle of the school soccer field at the beginning of fifth period. We had been in our chemistry unit for over two terms now, and we were all expected to come up with some brilliant idea to demonstrating newound knowledge. Amber and I worked together, per usual, well we were partners but I did all the work, as expected.
After a lot of research, I had finally come up with an idea. I had made a unique design for a solar powered generator. I had never told anyone this because I would be labeled a geek for life, but I was actually kind of good at this stuff. It was about the size of your average shoe box, and had my borrowed solar panels attached with duck tape.
I was especially nervous because I hadn’t had time to test the final product. I had waited until this morning to test it, and …well… my alarm decided not to go off so I missed the bus and had to hitch hike. Once you’re under that school roof there is no sunlight for power or anything to power it with since the school cleverly hid all the wires from site. Once I had discovered some hidden wires in the library and tested the first model on the school computerer. It didn’t go over too well; I short circuited the computerer and then got out of there pretty quick. No one has found any evidence that it was me, so as far as I know I am totally off the hook!
So there I was demon striating/testing it in front of the entire class. Good grief I hoped it would work.
I walked gingerly to the cent of the field and set it down on the grass and plugged it into the electric fan. I had tied a few scraggly pink ribbons that I had found in the hallway so everyone could see that is was on. I switched on the fan and then my primitive looking contraption. It started humming and the fan came on. A gasp went around the watching crowd. It worked! IT WORKED!!!
Of course, now if I had reached down and turned the stupid thing off, how different my life would have turned out. Just then the thing began to shake and rumble and sparks began to fly from the fan. Screams clawed at the throats of all the girls and even a few guys. My jigsaw generator began to shake on the ground rapidly as if there was an earthquake.
Without even thinking I turned and ran. Thank god for involuntary actions! I felt a wave of intense heat climb up my back and ran faster. My brain was screaming FIRE! FIRE! My project is on FIRE!! Once in safety I began to wonder if a blowing up solar generator would get a passing grade, probably not.
The police, fire department and ambulance all came, and because it was a chemical fire all we could do was wait for it to burn itself out because water would only feed the flames. We all watched in unbroken silence as the 10ft high flames engulfed the field. A few girls even started crying. When the smoke finally cleared there was a huge ditch in the middle of the field. It was about 15ft in diameter and 10 feet at the deepest point. It was all black with ash as if the burning had dressed it for its own funeral.
The next day two men showed up at my foster home. Mrs. Marchey made me fix my hair thinking they wanted to adopt me, like that would ever happen. She led my into the interview room, where your adoptive parents decide whether or not they want you. When we came in they were sitting opposite me, hands folded, sitting perfectly still. They were both dressed in monkey suits, with Bluetooth’s in their ears. Yet they seem slightly intimidating because they wore those scary military aviator sunglasses. They looked identical like they had been made with a black and white copy machine.
“Sirs this is Rachel—“Mrs. Marchey tried but was cut off.
“Yes we know.” Then he turned to me, or at least I think he did the sunglasses made it hard to tell. He uttered one harsh command, “Sit.” I did as Mrs. Marchey left the room. Let’s call him Creep # 1.
Creep #2 seemed to be glaring at me. “We heard about your little science project.”
I leaned back, “Well hello to you too.”
Creep #1 picked up were #2 left off as if I had said nothing. “And the military has taken an interest in your design. We need you to build another model, strong enough to do almost three times the damage your little toy did.”
“Not the chatty type huh?” I was making jokes at this point to calm my nerves. I was terrified.
Creep #2 ignored me once again. “We think you may have stumbled upon the next step in chemical warfare.”
“One that the war effort needs badly.” I was beginning to think they had rehearsed this.
“We’re leaving for the base at 1700 hours, you will be allowed one bag, clothes will be provided.”
My mind was racing, “What! But that’s in 10 minutes. No! No, no, NO! You can go back and tell you boss he has to find someone else. Not happening.”
In perfect unison they looked at each other, and Creep #1 said, “I’m sorry but I don’t think that was a question.
*



Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

imalwayswrite53 said...
Nov. 1, 2012 at 10:25 pm
Hey y'all! I'm looking for a peer-editing buddy! if anyone is interested plz let me know! k thanks!
 
Site Feedback